Deadpool's Most Wanted
by MatrixOfWumbo
Summary: The Merc' with a Mouth takes Manhattan! A cutthroat group of mercenaries is converging on NYC to take out a dangerous killer. But will Wade Wilson apprehend the Infamous Spider-Man, or will he ask for his autograph?
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone. Deadpool here._

_You've known me for a few years now as a sensational star of the silver screen. But back then I was a big fish in a small pond. Now the pond is like, the whole damn ocean, and now I'm finally swimming with heroes a little bit more... Me sized? I lost track of the metaphor._

_Long story short: now I'm the new kid on the block. Again. I need to make a big first impression. I need - a crossover!_

_Now I know what you're thinking, 'Deadpool, you're a big star! Can't you call up an Avenger anytime you want?' I wish, pal. Think about it. Deadpool and Thor? I don't have time for all his daddy issues. Deadpool and Rocket Raccoon? The world isn't ready for that. No, there's only a few dudes bad enough to roll with my crew, and they're all gone. Wolverine? Jackman retired. Captain America? Evans wants to pivot to directing, or something. And all without so much as a goodbye note for yours truly._

_But then, one night as I lay awake looking through my hero flash cards and crying to Celine Dion (the "Deadpool Special," I highly recommend), I found the solution. Spider-Man. Everyone loves when Spider-Man and Deadpool get together! They just don't know it yet._

_So, summary, this is my last chance to show I can do crossovers with the big boys. If I can get in good with Spider-Man, I'll be set for life. So don't !#&% this up for me._

_Ugh, that'll take some getting used to._

_XOXO_

_DP_

* * *

_Picture a New York parking garage. It's not the one down the street from Junior's Cheesecake; this is the bad side of town. Nobody's parked here overnight. And there's a man. Tight black shirt, tight black pants, bald head. Think Blue Man Group. The scattered light of the garage throws his features into harsh relief, like a Frank Miller drawing. That's Jason Macendale, and he has been summoned here by a mysterious benefactor with the promise of mercenary work._

_Now a second man appears. Macendale is cagey, but the newcomer raises his hands to show he isn't packing. This guy has a purple jacket on. He must be sweating his balls off, it's August. That's Paul Denning. There won't be a test later, but it just makes things easier..._

"Where's the client? Denning asked, stretching out his hands.

"We're early."

"Not your first time either, eh?"

Macendale smirked.

"No it is not. But even I haven't gotten an offer like this before. Name's Jason."

"Paul. Dennings."

Two more men approached. A dark skinned man in a quilted yellow coat sized up the two men.

"You guys here for the Spider thing?"

"You too?" Denning asked.

"Yup. Schultz. Call me Shocker."

Jason raised an eyebrow.

"I've heard of you. Weird being back on the outside?"

"It gets weirder."

His friend stepped into the light. He was bald like Schultz, with tattoos on his neck. A web of scars climbed over his left eye. His right arm was in a sort of splint with long sutures sticking from the sides. He looked at Paul and Jason with cold, clear eyes,

"Mac Gargan?" Macendale said with wide eyes. "You've got a rap sheet on half the East Coast."

"Who let you out of Ryker's?" Denning asked aloud.

"I did."

Out of the shadows stepped a middle-aged man with a bushy mustache. His head was also bare, save for a fringe of dark hair that quickly faded to white around his ears.

"Okay, now I'm more confused. Why is J Jonah Jameson hiring mercenaries?"

"I think I understand, Paul," Jason shook his head. "This freaking city."

"All of you are no doubt looking for more details on the little job I've arranged for you," Jameson began. But he was interrupted.

"Sorry I'm late, the cabs in this town are nuts!"

A man walked in from the stairwell, dressed head to toe in tight red and black. A harness held two swords to his back, and his belt was heavily laden with pockets. A red mask hid his face, with two small points of white blinked at them where his eyes lay beneath.

Jameson frowned.

"I'm sorry, you are?"

"It's me, Deadpool!"

Everyone looked at him blankly.

"Deadpool. Wade… Wilson? We were in the email group together? Is this… is this not the spooky mercenary meeting? I wrote the address on a Wendy's napkin on my way down, and you know those things never hold up-"

"Stop talking," Jameson barked. "We don't do business in masks."

"This is more of a, let's go with 'hygienic' situation. It's not so good from my brand without the mask."

"Take it off or get out."

"Okay, chief. But I warned you."

Wade pulled the mask from his head, and the others murmured uncomfortably. His face was pocked by an uncountable number of scars and lesions. He grinned and shrugged.

"You should see the other guy."

Jameson balked and averted his eyes.

"God! Put it back on. You're excused."

"Cool. Well, now that that's settled, why are we all in a parking garage?"

"Yes… let's get down to business," Gargan growled, speaking for the first time.

Jameson nodded, and adjusted his tie.

"Three months ago, the superhero Mysterio was murdered in London by the masked vigilante Spider-Man. Thanks to the late hero, we now know that Spider-Man is in fact 16 year old Peter Parker. I exposed Parker, here in his hometown, not long after. That should have been the end of it. But the public needs proof. Taking down that webbed menace will be the feather in the cap of my mayoral campaign."

"So you want us to kill Spider-Man," Macendale summarized.

"No! A dead kid is worthless at the polls. I need you to bring me Spider-Man - _alive_ \- so that I can unmask him on my show, and prove to everyone that I was right!"

Dennings thought for a moment.

"Wouldn't it be easier to grab this Parker guy while he's off duty, make him cop to it without his toys?"

"No. Anyone can get a confession out of a scared twerp. It won't be proof unless I have him in the costume. Plus, Parker and his aunt went to ground weeks ago. Spider-Man, on the other hand, has still been spotted from time to time."

"Seems simple enough," Deadpool reasoned. "How much trouble can one teenager be?"

"He's killed before," Jonah said darkly. "Do not underestimate the existential threat that Spider-Man represents to the city of New York."

* * *

_We met up with Jameson the next evening. After treating us to some of the Big Apple's hottest of _haute cuisine_, JJ sent us off to start working…_

"It's dark."

"No shit, Wilson," Shultz called back.

Deadpool bit another hunk out of his churro. "Jusht making convershashion."

They were all staked out on a roof in the Garment District. Watching for a glimpse of Spider-Man.

"So, uh, anyone else got a fun name? I got Deadpool because people would always lose money betting I would get killed on assignment."

Denning ginned.

"I used to work out of Chicago. They called me the Paladin. We heard a lot of things up there."

"Things like what?" Wade asked, glad that someone took the cue.

"Every week, a new story about how crazy the underworld was getting in New York. Flying men, alien guns, all of that. Things were looking up here, and looking way down back home, for me personally."

"So you came out here to sample the culture?"

"Well, let's just say I'm not going back to Chicago any time soon," Denning said, his eyes glazing over.

Wade coughed, snapping him out of his fog.

"So, uh," Paladin laughed nervously, "You're the Shocker. Where's Toomes? Didn't you used to run with the Vulture?"

"Toomes has gone soft since he got in," Gargan snarled.

"I wasn't aware I'd be working this job with convicted criminals," Jason said.

"And what's your story, slim?" Wade asked.

I used to do wetwork for the CIA. Got disavowed years ago."

"And he calls us criminals," Shocker muttered.

"Stop talking," Gargan raised his good arm. "Look there."

The five men looked at the buildings in the direction Gargan pointed. They thought it was nothing at first, until they saw a small shape move between two fire escapes.

"There you are," Jason muttered.

"Whelp," Paladin cocked his rifle. "Let's get this done."

"Let's go catch us a Spider," Gargan grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

"P- please! Don't hurt me!"

The mercenaries had their Target surrounded. It had been an exhilarating chase; Deadpool was almost sorry there wasn't anyone around to see it. Now he was standing, swords drawn, over the trembling form of Spider-Man.

He sounded kind of young. Maybe Jameson was onto something. But the way he shrunk into the ground before Wade's katana made him pause.

"What are you waiting for, Wilson?" Macendale called. "Finish the job."

"Job isn't to kill him. It's to bring him in to face justice."

"Oh, thank goodness," Spider-Man collapsed. "Finally someone I can talk to to clear this up."

Deadpool dropped his stance and rolled his eyes.

"Oh boy. Everyone, I think this is a false alarm. This little spaz wouldn't kill anyone."

"No, this is the guy," Denning said, unstrapping his weapon. "The Spider-Man."

"Yeah, I know who it is, my costume has eye holes," Wade said shortly. "But just look at him. C'mon, Paulie. If he's a murderer then I'm a Pikachu."

"Do we wanna get paid, or not?" Shocker waved his hands angrily.

"Just give him here," Gargan snarled. "I'll beat him unconscious, drag him to the client, and when he wakes up he'll be unmasked, thrown in jail, and I can kill him there. Easy."

"Um, maybe I spoke too soon," the webslinger tilted his head. Before Wade knew what had hit him, a webbed robe grabbed onto his ankle and pulled, sending him face first into the paved ground.

Deadpool heard a chaotic struggle as he righted himself, saw Shocker live up to his name as he pounded the side of the building to shake the fleeing Spider down.

"Get him. Now!" Gargan screamed, just before a webshot plastered him in the bad half of his face. Macendale tried to block out the cacophony as he lined up his weapon. He saw the vigilante in his scope turn and glance at him a second before he intended to fire, leaping out if the way and onto the other building that made up the alley. Then with a final strand fired from his wrists he was gone.

* * *

"I'm disappointed, gentlemen."

The mercenaries were gathered on a rooftop the next morning. Jameson paced back and forth in front of them.

"He is just one child. A boy! You are four highly trained men."

"He's got this sense to him," Macendale defended. "He can anticipate when you're going to hit him, and correct for it. Makes him hard to catch."

"Not to mention Deadpool wussed out on us," Schultz grumbled. "Had the kid dead to rights and wouldn't follow through."

"And now he's not even here," Denning raised his arms.

Jameson looked around.

"That's right. I thought it was too quiet in here. Where is Wilson?"

"Doing 'research,' Schultz rolled his eyes.

"He's checking out the area where we lost the Spider last night," Jason clarified. "Not a bad play. We know he's somewhere in the city, he has to follow some kind of logic in his path through it. A pattern."

"But Wilson is an idiot," snapped Gargan. "He couldn't find gum in a subway. How's he going to find one twerp in a city of 2 million people?"

* * *

_Work meetings are boring, but it's generally good practice to go to all of them. I; however, have never accused myself of being a role model. Besides, I had barely been in the Big Apple for a day and it was already starting to smell a little mealy..._

"Biodegradable. Nice!"

Deadpool picked through a few hanging tatters of webbing as he traveled down the fire escape to the street below.

"Always glad to see a killer with a green thumb."

He was looking for signs, not of Spiders but of teenagers. The webhead was going this direction for a reason - he was heading from one place to another. He looked up the tag for Spider-Man on social media. There was a frankly excessive number of posts from the Daily Bugle, but also a number of "spider sightings" from the previous week.

A lot of them had come from an area south of the alley the mercenaries had cornered him in last night, but that was still too large a group to work with.

Deadpool liked when people thought he was as dumb as he looked. It made it easy to do his own thing. Now, if he was making the big bucks, he could string up this whole block with cameras and look for the kid from his hotel room. But he would have to go with the old-fashioned way today.

Step 1: Find the busiest street. The police haven't found him, so he's avoiding traffic cameras.

Step 2: Look for anyone being shifty. Hoodies up in the summer, erratic street crossings, head down, any of "the signs."

Wade pulled out a photo of Peter Parker. He was too high profile to ask around about, and if for some reason the person he asked didn't know about the Spider Stuff, he'd probably have qualms about helping a man in a red gimp suit find a high school age boy.

It went on like this for hours, until Deadpool finally had an ounce of luck. He saw a grey hoodie flash behind a dumpster, and peeked around the side. Running down an alley was a boy with wavy brown hair. He looked around to check that he wasn't followed, and darted up the side of the building in seconds.

"That explains how he keeps out of sight," Wade muttered. But now that he had him, it was fine for...

Step 3: Tail 'em.

* * *

In his apartment, hidden from the world, Peter Parker wished his aunt a somber goodnight. It was the most recent of many, as of late. As he turned to shut the door to his room, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up. There was the shape of a man kneeling through his window, a handgun aimed at the boy.

"I'm gonna ask you this one time, kid," Deadpool said. "And I want you to look me in the eye when you answer it. Did you kill Quentin Beck?"


	3. Chapter 3

"No! Of course not!"

"Good," Wade nodded, and finished crawling through the window. "Now turn on a light, and we can talk like adults."

"Um, okay," the bewildered Peter fumbled for a light switch.

"And don't think I forgot about that faceplant, by the way. I need that face for my fragrance commercials."

His face was entirely obscured in a black and red mask. He kind of sounded like he was joking, but Peter wasn't quite sure.

"So," the young man began, "Why are you... why are you here? You found my house, you know who I am-"

"Call it a hunch," he said. "I get hired to bring in a teenager for murder, client has a serious axe to grind, but the kid wets himself at first sight of a guy with a sword. Smells fishy to me."

"So you _are_ working for someone," Peter clenched a fist. "Who is it?"

"That's confidential. Professional courtesy."

"It's Jameson, isn't it?"

Deadpool frowned under his mask.

"Okay yeah, it's Jameson."

"Gah!" Peter shouted, then recoiled, afraid of waking his aunt.

"Why does that guy hate me so much?"

"We're getting off topic. I asked you straight up, and you answered me straight up. So let's say I believe you. Tell me everything about Mysterio."

Peter offered him his desk chair.

"Mysterio wasn't a hero, or even from another world. He was just a guy. A con-man, using visual effects technology to fool everyone. Even the monsters he fought were fakes. He was trying to get revenge on Tony Stark, but Iron Man is retired, so I guess I was the next best thing. He duped me into giving him access to Stark's tech, and then in the battle he… died. Shot by his own drone. It was right quarters, he was aiming for me. Then the jerk framed me for it."

"Why did he do that?"

"To spite me. He wanted to be the biggest and best hero, thought it would make him rich and famous."

"People have done worse for less, I suppose," Wade said. He may or may not have been one of them, before he met Vanessa.

"I once fought a guy who killed his daughter for a magic rock," Peter replied.

"Oof. We have a winner. Stark know about this?"

"The Foundation issued a formal denial, but it didn't do much good. The last thing Mysterio told me was that 'people will believe anything.' I didn't know why he said it then. I do now."

"Mmhmm."

Wade leaned back in the chair.

"I'll take the case."

Peter blinked. "The case? You're a thug _and_ a detective?"

"First of all, I'm not a thug, I'm a mercenary. But listen. I came out here to catch a vigilante who overstepped, and make a cool 50K doing it. I did not come out here to be lied to. So, it's your lucky day."

He turned to leave through the window once again.

"We're going to get you out of this mess, or my name isn't Deadpool."

Peter looked at him for a moment. Wade stared back. _Ah_, he thought. He had forgotten.

"By the way, the name's Deadpool, but you can call me Wade. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too. Wade."

* * *

_The next day I decided to do some homework, for once. I started by searching the _Daily Bugle_ and Spider-Man together. The kid had asked why Jameson hated him. It was a fair question._

_The Spider first starts showing up in news reports around Thanksgiving 2015. Almost immediately after, I started seeing _Bugle_ posts about it. "Who Is the Spider-Man?" and "Webbed Menace Strikes Again!" There was no honeymoon phase, it seemed. Jameson was pushing Parker as a threat before he knew anything about him._

_So I went farther back. 2015 was a big year for people who think Spanx are for family reunions and not for punching bank robbers. The Avengers' play date in Sokovia got its share of attention. He didn't have much good to say about the Avengers, but he didn't target many of them individually. Too protected, probably. Iron Man was an expensive libel suit. Cap was a regular hero in the war before he was a super one. He didn't like Black Widow's ties to Russia but he couldn't really stick anything specific on her as a government agent. And who even cares about Hawkeye anyway?_

_There was one thing all that stuff had in common though. They didn't have nearly the same traffic as the Spider stuff. Jameson was a dime a dozen rabble rouser with a tabloid rag before Spider-Man showed up. But now he's got sponsors, a website, an online radio show. Spider-Man is his meal ticket - a gravy train he wants to ride all the way to the mayor's office._

_The T-shirts were right. I really do Heart NYC._

* * *

"Do you have a partner, Wade?"

"No," he said sullenly. "He doesn't exist yet."

Peter blinked, then thought better of asking anymore.

Deadpool rubbed his temples. "Okay, let's break this down. There are two issues here. We need to convince the world that Spider-Man didn't kill Mysterio, which is true. Aaaand we need to convince the world that Spider-Man isn't _you_, which is a lie."

Peter nodded. "I've been thinking about this a lot. If we can discredit Mysterio, we can discredit the whole thing. Nick Fury knows the truth, if I can get in contact with him-"

"Then Jameson can the whole thing as a government cover-up. His audience would eat it up. You saw how well it went when Iron Man vouched for you."

"A cover-up? But, but that's crazy!"

"Kid, he hocks ground up chicken bones and diluted iodine as 'male enhancement supplements.' The crazy isn't a bug, it's a feature. It's almost admirable, really. I'm twice as crazy as he is and I can't make half as much off it."

"Okay," Peter's face darkened again. "We'll just have to find some other way to show I didn't murder Mysterio."

"Wrong again, Webhead!"

"What now?"

"You're still thinking about this the wrong way. You think the truth will set you free, but your enemy eats truth and craps clickbait. We need to fight fire with fire; or in this case, fight liar with liar. That's where I come in."

"I don't think I understand you."

"Yeah, that's kind of my thing," Deadpool muttered. "Listen. You may never be able to convince JJ's listeners you didn't kill Mysterio. But who cares about that? What you really don't want is for them to know where you live. So we don't fight the murder charge. We get your secret identity back."

"So, we make everyone think I'm _not_ Spider-Man?"

"But you're taller than I am. And we don't sound anything alike."

"Nobody cares. I've seen the online forums, there are a thousand guesses about how old you are, how tall you are, race, gender - you'd think that last one would be easy enough, but I guess it's the squeaky voice."

"Hey!" Peter squeaked.

"Bottom line," Wade cut him off, "they won't notice if Spider-Man's a few inches taller and doesn't speak."

"So all we need to do is put you in a suit, show up somewhere I am, and people will buy it?"

"In simple terms, yes. But it can't just be a Photo Op at your local comic store. It has to be big. And JJ has to be there. We convince him, he convinces his brush-head army, you get your life back. Then Daddy gets paid, and zip-zap-zoop I'm back to wherever I lived in the last movie, enjoying my home life."

Peter gulped.

"Um, Wade? I don't have any money. We've been on the run for months. Even my suits I make using a… friend's equipment."

Deadpool had his back turned to the Spider. He looked back only for a moment, said "I'm sure we'll think of something," and jumped out the window.


	4. Chapter 4

_Yeah, I know. I'm getting soft. But I suppose I have a thing for kids. Uh, but not like that. That's not what you thought I meant anyway, is it? Shit. Anyway, I meant what I said. I'm getting paid back one way or another. There's just a few more interesting avenues I can pursue with a guy like Jameson as my mark. So I spent the next few days pretending business was business, looking for a breadcrumb or two that could help my new young friend's predicament. I decided to visit my employer at his office…_

"Jones! Jones, get out here!"

A young woman with dark skin and a head of wavy hair hurried out of a door with a pad of paper.

"Yes, Mr. Jameson?"

Where are we at with the Samson interview?"

"He's not calling back. I'm pretty sure he doesn't like you."

"Well keep trying. The focus group tells me 'expert testimonial' will help the campaign. I say, let me debate that granola-crunching university pansy and I'll double my donations overnight! They'll give political science degrees to any old sob story."

"I'm going to school for political science next fall, Mr. Jameson."

"Oh. Well, there's still time to change your mind. No time like the present. A coffee wouldn't be bad either. One sugar. Chop chop!"

She stifled a growl and raced backstage again, brushing past Wade on her way. He opened his arms and smiled warmly at the host.

"Howdy, J-Town! What's shakin'?"

Jonah wheeled around from his table and leapt as if burned when he saw Wade.

"My office. Now!" He hissed.

"Why are you at my place of business?" He demanded.

"Because I wanted to find you, and I figured you'd be here about 8 hours of the day," Wade shrugged.

"Your Spider project cannot be traced back to me in any way, you understand? It would be political suicide!"

"So that's it, huh? We're some sort of Political Suicide Squad? Don't worry, Jimbo, I'm a professional. That's why I came in my civvies."

"Fine," Jonah clutched the bridge of his nose. "What do you want?"

"Information. How did Mysterio die? Like, obviously I know Spider-Man killed him, but what did he do?"

"That's all very easily found on the internet these days," Jameson said angrily. "For example, the website I run?"

"Research has never been my bag," Deadpool shrugged. "He clowned us pretty bad a few weeks back, and I don't want to make the same mistakes twice. I like money, but I like not being dead more. So what was it? Extra sticky garrote, a super spider kick to the head?"

"Nothing nearly so dramatic. He used a gun, like a coward. A cluster of small caliber, high velocity rounds."

"Spidey uses a gun?"

"In this particular case he did. We haven't found any more victims like that, so he doesn't seem to have one particular MO. He likes variety, the sick bastard.

"What were the other victims killed with?"

"Well, I don't have any more. But I know they're out there. I've been a journalist for decades. Hard hitting stuff, built from scratch. Nobody ever gave me a Pulitzer just for showing up. I know there are other victims. Just need to figure out how to pin them to this insect. A web garrote. Not a bad idea."

Wade asked a few more questions, and then left. On the way out he heard a voice.

"Psst!"

Wade turned to see the dark-haired assistant leaning out from the blue screen, beckoning him over with a tilt of her head. Looking over his shoulder, Wade ducked behind the screen and into the backstage area.

"You're with him, aren't you?"

"You might want to clarify before I get in trouble with the pronouns, lady," Wade cautioned. The woman was not alone. A blonde, about the same age with a band in her hair, was currently staring daggers at him from behind her co-worker.

"You know. A friend of the Spider," the two girls pressed rings on their fingers, which produced a small purple light they used to show a spider-shaped blacklight tattoo on the backs of their hands.

"Ooh, aren't you two the little spymasters," Wade was at least a little bit genuinely interested now.

"Yeah, we're pretty cool," the dark haired one said in a disaffected tone.

"He told us to look out for you. I'm Michelle."

"Betty," the blonde nodded grimly. "We've embedded ourselves in Jameson's operation, trying to sabotage him from within."

"Ah. I was thinking maybe you just came from a Chuck E Cheese and were hoping to get back in later for a slice. So you're like secret double agents?"

"Yeah," Michelle scoffed. "Why else would would I subject myself to a four month internship in Toxic Masculinity Hell? Our mutual friend needs our help."

"Agreed," Wade said after a pause. "I need to get Peter and Jameson in the same place. The more public, the better."

Betty arced her eyebrow. "Isn't that exactly what he wants?"

"He wants _Spider-Man_. We need to convince him that it isn't gonna be Parker under the mask."

"I get it," Michelle nodded in understanding. "And you're in luck. We happen to be in charge of managing this dumbass's schedule. A rally for his mayoral campaign ought to do it."

"It will all go down in front of his most intense supporters," Betty finished.

"I love it," Wade flashed a thumbs up. "Thanks ladies, we'll handle everything else."

Michelle stopped him.

"There's one other thing. Normally I'd send 'him' to check it out but he's laying low while your friends are out on patrol. You seem vaguely super though, am I right?'

"I put on my tights one leg at a time, same as anyone. But is it job related?"

"It could be, or it could be nothing. I've got a tingle about it. Jameson's been clearing his schedule twice a week for the last three weeks to disappear somewhere. It's not on the books. He takes his own car."

"I'll look into it. Like you said, could be nothing. If he has a mistress - oops sorry, three up a little."

"By the way," he turned back. "Which one of you is in charge of his Twitter?"

"Pfft," Michelle grinned. "That's all him."

"Stream of consciousness," Betty nodded. "Straight off the dome."

"Impressive."

* * *

_Well this is a surprising turn of events. JJ hops into his car every Tuesday and Thursday night to go to… a shifty looking wearhouse out by the docks. I'm using this opportunity to practice with Pete's web shooters. It would be awkward if one of the other Spider Slayers saw me from afar and thought I was the real deal, although it would certainly mean my plan will work. But anyway, here I am on the roof of this old dry dock looking place. And down there is Jameson, and two mooks in white lab coats. Let's switch over to third person and see what happens next._

Jameson came down the stairs as the scientists finished checking their readouts.

"Gentlemen, do you know what it means to be mayor in this town?"

"No, sir."

"The Mayor of New York City is one of the most famous men in America. Right up there with the President, the Vice President, and the Joint Chief of the Navy."

The two scientists looked at one another.

"I will become a household name if I can clinch this election. But I need _him_ to do it."

He pointed at a poster of Spider-Man hanging on the rear wall.

"I want Spider-Man off the streets before I take office. And seeing as my elite team of expensive mercenaries isn't cutting the mustard…"

At that moment two more scientists wheeled a gurney into the room. Strapped to it was Mac Gargan.

And then the first two scientists opened up a large locker, containing a green metallic suit of armor.

"I suddenly feel nervous," Deadpool said to himself. "And perhaps a smidge moist."

"The next generation of advanced prosthesis," Jameson said to no one in particular. "A new Iron Man. I bet that, when Justin Hammer went under, you all figured your research project was over. That you'd spend the rest of your days teaching biology at those community colleges I found you at."

"I worked at Berkeley, sir."

"I know what I said. But thanks to me, your work will see the light of day after all. Mr. Gargan, as the first volunteer for this armor, I want you to shadow me. If Spider-Man or Peter Parker should try anything, you'll take him out and bring him to justice. It will put the suit - and me - on the map. Imagine this technology in the hands of law enforcement. My city will be safer than it ever has been."

Gargan shifted his bad shoulder around on the bed.

"It's all the same to me. Just get my body fixed. After I rip the little bastard's arm off, you can dress the cops like princesses. And give Parker whatever public hanging you want."

One of the scientists hurried up to Jonah.

"Mr. Jameson, these comments, taken alongside his psychological profile, indicate he might not be suited for this type of procedure."

"Granted he's not exactly 'PC,'" Jameson made quotes around the letters with his fingers, "But frankly this city could use a hero with a harder edge. Put the damn suit on him, while we're young."

_I could tell you what happened next, but I'd need nine months and 20 million dollars of post production to really do it justice. Let's just say it sure didn't sound pretty. And more importantly, it threw a big monkey wrench in my cool plan._


	5. Chapter 5

"So, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

"The good?" Peter said, unsure. They were back in Peter and his Aunt's hideout, and Wade was recounting his investigation while the young man tinkered at his suit.

"Oh. Well, I talked to your girlfriend, and we have a time and place. Barring something like a crazy cyborg attack, you'll have your life back in two weeks."

"That's great! So, what's the bad news?"

"Jameson turned Gargan into a crazy cyborg. This just became a supervillain situation."

"What? Oh, no no no. We can't put me out there with that psycho and no suit to protect me! He'll skin me alive! Or worse, I'll react on instinct and the whole world will see my powers!"

"Not to worry, kid. This is actually the last price of the puzzle I need. Because if Gargan attacks Peter Parker - that's you - then Spider-Man is going to save him. That's me, in case you were having trouble."

"No, I remember the plan," Peter said. He held up a mask.

"I made some adjustments to the voice filter. I used to use it to make me sound intimidating, but it never really worked."

"I can't imagine," Deadpool said flatly.

"Now it emulates my own voice, so you have a limited ability to speak when you make your appearance."

"Limited?"

"I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but you talk a _lot_ Mr. Wilson."

"Wade. Mr. Wilson was from _Dennis the Menace_."

"See?" Peter pointed at him. "And Jameson knows it too. So if you say anything too Deadpoolish around him, he'll catch on. Skip to simple phrases, and keep it brief. And uh, clean. We're trying to repair my reputation, right?"

He tossed the mask to Wade and the mercenary turned it over in his hands.

"I think I can work with that."

* * *

_And so, here we finally are. The big day. I got you front row seats, so watch out. You may get wet._

A mass of people were gathered in front of the steps of the New York Public Library, the site of one of J Jonah Jameson's largest rally in his campaign for mayor.

The throngs were armed with "J³" posters and Daily Bugle flags MJ and Betty had somewhat unenthusiastically distributed at the entrance. There were also many television cameras. Jameson had gained no small amount of national attention after publicly outing Spider-Man as both a teenage boy and a murderer on his webshow.

Between two banners with highly posterized images of his face over the word TRUTH, there was a podium. And as the crowd swelled to its maximum volume, the man of the hour walked through the library doors and up to the microphone.

After letting the ovation marinate for a minute, Jameson began.

"My friends. I came to this city - you know this - with a dream on my back, and a song in my heart. After witnessing the horrors of Vietnam through my trusty camera, I decided to turn my gaze back home. And though my storied career in journalism was laid low by 'modern sensibilities,' I have become the foremost voice in the battle against super powered menaces. So called _heroes_. I think a lot about Captain America. Regular listeners to my program, _The Daily Bugle_, know that I have often been more forgiving of Captain Rogers' antics. Sure, he was no angel. Let us not forget his flouting of the Sokovia Accords, or his breaking out of several dangerous inmates from the Raft. But let's not speak ill of the dead. Steve Rogers was a hero. And the Age of Heroes died with him."

The crowd fell to a lull, remembering their fallen savior.

"The Age of Heroes is over, and there is no greater example of that than the exploits of Spider-Man. A vigilante who for years we didn't know the name or face of. Well ladies and gentlemen, I know his face now, in more ways than one. The face of a cold-blooded killer, who took from us the last best hope for superheroes in this world, the extradimensional paragon Mysterio. The face of Peter Parker, a boy who thought he deserved the responsibility of a man. I am sick of it.

"As your mayor, we can usher in a new age, with new heroes. Real heroes. If we all do our parts, we can learn to look out for ourselves, instead of relying on deceitful menaces like Spider-Man to solve our problems."

He let the applause seep back in.

"Jonah!" A voice cut through the rapt audience. A thin shape in a hoodie pushed their way through the crowds to face Jameson at the podium. They pulled back their hood, revealing the face of Peter Parker to everyone assembled.

"I have something to say to you!"

Jameson's supporters reacted initially with surprise, but then started booing and chanting things like "Murderer!" and "Hero-Killer!"

In the back of the rally, MJ and Betty looked at each other apprehensively.

Jameson's lips crept into a smile.

"Well, well, well. I never expected you to walk right into the lion's den. Perhaps you aren't as cowardly as I expected."

"Your lies have destroyed my life!" The boy began unleashing words left to stew in his head for many months.

"I can't go to school, I can't see my girlfriend, I can't even go outside! And what's worse, you did the same thing to my aunt. She's a widow, she worked at a food bank. Now we're both on the run, because of _you!_"

"I'm not sure why that's my problem, _Spider-Man,_" Jonah sneered. "You made your choice when you _executed_ Quentin Beck. You dare call yourself a hero? You dare show your face here? What gives you the _balls?_"

"I didn't kill anyone," Peter swallowed.

The crowd erupted in boos. Someone threw a can of soda at Peter's head.

Jameson grinned victoriously. He stepped away from the mic and closer to Peter.

"It's your word against mine, Parker. And the people have spoken. Your kind, the degeneracy of masked vigilantism, is no longer welcome in this world. I hope it was worth coming all this way to realize that."

"You aren't going to win this fight, Jonah," Peter growled.

"This isn't a schoolyard spat, kid. I've seen war. You don't know the meaning of the word."

Something jumped down from the roof of the library. It was covered in thin green metal plating that flexed around his body like a second later of muscle. Where his right arm should have been was an articulated metal tendril with a grisly looking spike at the end. On his head was a red visor that now retracted to reveal the face of Mac Gargan.

"Hey there, Spider," he flashed a demented, hateful smile.

The crowd reacted fearfully to this newcomer, murmuring as it crept closer to the boy.

"Gargan, I've got him right where I want him," Jameson said quietly. "We won't be needed ng you after all."

"Your orders were pretty clear," the cybernetic terror hissed. "If he makes a move, I take him out."

"And leave him _alive!_ I want his conviction, not his corpse."

"That's your problem, JJ."

The visor lowered over Gargan's eyes.

"It ain't always about what _you_ want."

Peter winced as the convict's scorpion arm lunged towards him. He waited to feel it pierce his skin. It never did.

When Peter opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Jameson's face running the full gamut of the rainbow, his mustache drenched in cold sweat. The crowd was eerily silent. Then he saw Gargan's arm pinned to the pavement by a well-timed pair of webshots. And then he saw, standing up from his landing a few paces in front of Gargan and Jameson, the person who saved him.

"Hey everyone," Spider-Man said. "Sorry I'm late."


End file.
